


What Dreams May Come

by oceanofdarkness



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanofdarkness/pseuds/oceanofdarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle talks in her sleep... a quirk that gives her lover ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Dreams May Come

Belle French found herself smiling as she stood in the kitchen and looked out the window at the morning light playing over the rose bushes in the backyard. It had been an interesting morning. Rumplestiltskin had come down to breakfast with a grin that had been both innocent and predatory at once, asking, _“Interesting dreams last night, Love?”_ She’d felt herself blush as she ducked her head and muttered that she didn’t remember, then felt a knuckle under her chin lifting her face to his.

 

“That’s a lie, Belle.” He’d had a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I think you _do_ remember, and I’m quite certain you enjoyed whatever it was.”

 

“How do you _know_ that?” 

 

“You talk in your sleep, Dearie.”

 

“Oh!” This could definitely be problematic, given that she slept next to a mischievous sorcerer who delighted in teasing her. She’d tried to turn away but he’d pulled her against him with a leer that made her knees go weak.

 

“Are you going to tell me, Love?”

 

She sighed. “That’s not really a question, is it?” 

 

He just shook his head and raised his eyebrows expectantly. She thought of trying to wait him out, but she knew it was no use. 

 

Perhaps she could stall? _“Well, what did I say exactly?”_

 

“Enough to know you were dreaming about me,” he chuckled. “My name came up several times...” He allowed the hands at her waist to run along the curve of her ass and pull her fully against him... “along with words like _yes_ and _harder_ and the occasional _fuck_.” She felt the blush rise in her cheeks and pulled free of his embrace to pluck the kettle from the stove and fill the tea pot beside it.

 

“Well, then you don’t need me to tell you _anything_ , Rumplestiltskin. You know perfectly well what I was dreaming about.”

 

He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling her hair aside to nip at the side of her neck. _“I do have the general idea, yes,”_ he admitted, _“but I was hoping for a few details to flesh out the image.”_ She felt his nose wrinkle up against her ear just before he bit down hard on the soft skin beneath it, casually fondling a breast as he soothed the spot with his tongue.

 

She squirmed around in his arms until she was facing him. _“You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”_ Might as well resign herself to merciless harassment until he got what he wanted. The man would be the death of her. Wasn’t it enough that he’d gotten her to admit in a moment of weakness that she found that damnable cane... _interesting_?

 

“Would _you_?” She rolled her eyes at his satisfied smirk, but she couldn’t deny that he had a point.

 

“Fine. If you must know...” she began, but stopped at the sound of his delighted sigh. He was still very much the imp she had fallen in love with. She met his eyes for a moment, then lowered hers, focusing squarely on his tie, and nibbled at her bottom lip while she considered how to proceed. “I was... _pleased_ to see the... well, the table from the Great Hall in your dining room,” she murmured. “I always had a certain... _fondness_ for it.” She jerked her eyes back to his when she heard the choked groan that he produced, and flushed a deep shade of pink when she realized that he was now just as flustered as she was. 

 

“You... in the castle... you thought of...?” He trailed off and moved away from her to take up the teapot and busy himself with pouring their morning tea. 

 

“I believe I’ve shocked you, Rumplestiltskin!” She didn’t know whether to be mortified or ridiculously proud of herself.

 

“Of course not, Dearie.” He was usually so still here, she hadn’t seen his hands flutter like they did over the tea things since she’d found him in this new land. She thought of teasing him, asking if he didn’t want more details, but she was afraid he’d call her bluff, so she let it go. She took the mug he held out to her and asked about his plans for the day while they drank their tea. When he had drained his mug, he allowed her to herd him out of the kitchen and off to his shop without any further discussion of dreams or their time at the Dark Castle, though he did kiss her goodbye with a certain fervor.

 

And now she found herself freshly showered and dressed for the day, drying the tea pot and their mugs before tucking them away in the cabinet. She had no doubt that her mercurial lover would insist on revisiting her revelation once he’d gotten used to the idea of his innocent little caretaker having very inappropriate thoughts about her master. For the rest of the morning though, she was going to put that aside and head upstairs to start sorting out the library. She padded back through the dining room on her way to the stairs, shaking her head at the clutter of books she was about to attack, when she felt the cold touch of metal against her skin. 

 

Belle stifled a yelp and turned to look over her shoulder to find Rumplestiltskin leaning against the table, then glanced down to find the tip of his cane hooked into the waistband of her skirt. She hadn’t seen the cane in awhile. He hadn’t needed it since magic had come to Storybrooke, and she was a bit surprised that it’s handle should currently be against the small of her back with it’s owner grinning wickedly as he used it to tug her back from the doorway.

 

“Going somewhere, Dearie?”

 

“Rumplestiltskin, what are you doing here?”

 

“I live here.” His tone was much too innocent, a clear sign he was up to no good.

 

“Yes, I know,” she responded patiently, “but you just left for work.”

 

“I missed you, Love,” and with that, he gave the cane a sharp jerk, pulling her back against him and was rewarded with a husky laugh as he wrapped her in his arms.

 

“You’ve barely been gone an hour. Surely, you haven’t had time to miss me yet.”

 

“You don’t think I could concentrate on anything in the shop after your little confession this morning, do you, Dearie?” She shivered at the feel of his hand brushing along the back of her neck as he pulled her hair aside, then the tip of his nose tracing along the shell of her ear. He tightened an arm around her and she gasped and leaned back into him. “You’re not the only one with a fondness for this table, Love.” His breath was hot on her neck, his voice no more than a rough whisper at her ear. “I used to watch you when you polished it. You had to bend over to reach the center, and I’d look at that lovely little ass. I wanted so badly to move up behind you and raise your skirts...” Here he paused to slide a hand up along her thigh and under her skirt to tease her through the lace of her knickers, “... and take you bent over the edge.”

 

She drew in a ragged breath as the pressure of his fingers on her increased, and her voice was low when she spoke, close to a growl. _“I’ll have to remember to put furniture polish on my shopping list.”_

 

It was her lover’s turn to growl... _“Tell me, Belle.”_ She hesitated, and felt just the tip of his fingers slip underneath the lace between her legs, lightly brushing across her, then withdrawing to leave her whimpering at the loss of his touch. _“Tell me.”_

 

“I used to wonder what you’d do...” Her breath was coming in shallow gasps, but then so was his. “... if I sat on the end of the table while you were in your chair...” He was leaning against that same edge now holding her tight against him with one hand splayed over her belly. The fingers of the other slipped back beneath lace, trailing through the wet heat of her, and she barely had breath at all to force out her next words. “If I’d been brazen enough to bring my feet up to the arms...” Her eyes flickered shut with a soft moan, and she felt him nuzzle into her hair.  “... to stand up would have put you between my legs.”

 

She heard the harsh intake of air, and then a deep chuckle. “And once you had me between your legs, Belle...” he paused to nuzzle into her hair again, and she felt his fingers slide into her, heard a low groan but couldn’t be sure which of them it had come from, “... what would you have had me do then?”

 

There was no hesitation this time. “I thought of you unlacing my bodice with those spinner’s fingers...” At this, the fingers inside of her curled, making her cry out and shift her hips against his hand. “I wanted your hands on me, your mouth at my throat.” He quickened his movements, plunging his fingers into her as she managed to gasp out the last, “I wanted to wrap my legs around you, to feel you inside me.” 

 

“Gods, Belle!” He flicked a nail over her and felt her clench around the fingers that stilled inside her, moaning and trembling against him as much from the desperate need in his voice as from his touch.

 

When she stilled in his arms, he shifted, deftly unzipping her skirt and letting it fall about her ankles as he turned to lift her onto the table. The polished wood was cool and smooth along the backs of her thighs, and his hands were moving from her hips to unfasten the buttons of the thin white blouse she wore. She was still a little dazed when he finished and slipped the fabric off along her arms. He moved closer to her then, bringing his arms around her to unfasten her bra and toss it aside. He was nuzzling aside her hair, lips and teeth grazing the length of her neck. Then his mouth was on hers, tongue parting her lips as her hands tangled in his hair to drag him closer, pull him deeper. She felt his hands trail up her sides towards her breasts, feather light touches teasing along her ribs and sending fresh shivers through her body. His tongue continued it’s exploration of her mouth as his hands found their way to her nipples, pinching and teasing her until she was squirming on the edge of the table trying to get close enough to rub herself against him. And how could she be so desperate for him still after just shaking in his arms from the work of those long, graceful fingers?

 

He tore his mouth away from hers, nipping and licking his way to her ear, and she felt his teeth close gently on her earlobe, heard his rough whisper. _“Patience, Love. Wouldn’t do to rush.”_

 

She groaned her frustration as he stepped back from her, leaving her perched on the table with her hands wrapped around the edge. He offered her a wicked leer and somehow the cane was in his hand again. He was gripping the sleek wood about half way down, the handle already tracing the path of his eyes as they roamed over her. He started at her throat, the cool metal delicious against the heat of her flushed skin, and grazed along her collar bones before moving the curved tip down to run over the swell of each breast in turn then slipping between them to draw a line down along her belly to the top of her knickers. He allowed just the very edge to slide beneath the waistband of the lacy fabric, trailing back and forth for a moment where it met her bare skin, then he withdrew and continued down barely brushing her through the lace on his way to tracing lazy patterns along her thighs with the textured metal. 

 

She was panting, gripping the sides of the table, needy little whimpers escaping her until she could find enough of her voice to beg. _“Rumplestiltskin, please!”_ How was he this calm? The only evidence of the need she’d heard in his voice earlier the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the ragged quality of his breathing.

 

His eyes held hers, darkening with each gasp from her lips, each tiny shudder of pleasure as his cane caressed sensitive skin moving closer and closer to the tops of her thighs. He grinned, a smug crooked tilt of his lips, and brought the handle up between her legs, pressing into her through the wet lace and allowing her to grind herself against it just long enough to produce a breathless, “Yes!”

 

She felt the curve of it’s tip catch the top of her knickers, tugging them down, and then she yelped as the cool edge of the metal brushed the tight bundle of nerves within her folds. Her lover chuckled and pressed harder, rubbing the head of the cane against her until she was sobbing with pleasure.

 

His hard won control was all but shattered from watching her respond to his teasing, his cock straining against his trousers. All it took finally were the words, _“Please, I want you inside me.”_ to remind him of his earlier desperation. With one quick jerk, her knickers were around her ankles and he discarded the cane in favor of freeing himself while she kicked the lace off completely. Her legs came around him as he moved between them, his hands cupping her ass and pulling her onto him, thrusting into her with a groan. Her hands were in his hair again, pulling his mouth to hers, her tongue moving between his lips, matching his thrusts. Neither lasted long, each swallowing the other’s screams as his release followed hers with the first clenching of her walls around him.

 

They stayed where they were for long minutes afterward, kissing and nibbling at one another’s lips until he finally pulled back, dropping into a chair and drawing her down onto his lap. She cuddled against him, belatedly fiddling with the knot of his tie.

 

“Not going in to work today then?” she murmured into the side of his neck, and his response was a contented rumble in his throat before whispering into her hair. “Not going anywhere, Dearie.” Then after a moment’s thought, he pulled back and raised his eyebrows at her with an impish grin, ”... except to get you that furniture polish.”


End file.
